


Schaefer

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: Ginyuu Mokushiroku Meine Liebe | Meine Liebe
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loyalty is a kind of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schaefer

Loyalty.

The word in and of itself is meaningless. But when Ed puts a hand on Orphe’s shoulder, gently squeezing some of the loneliness and despair away, and insists the blond man come into town with him and not return to the academy until he smiles at least one genuine smile—when Ed stands behind Orphe, fists clenched, ready to fight men bigger than either of them put together, not even having paid any attention to the argument, but the first in line to defend Orphe’s idealistic point of view—when Ed helps a despondent and disillusioned Orphe back home and settles him on the edge of the bed and does nothing more than draw in a quick breath as Orphe’s pale fingers slide up his chest and rest on his pectorals—loyalty is love.

“Ed,” Orphe whispers.

And finally, he thinks. Finally, all the waiting, the endless moments with his stomach in knots, his breath caught in his throat, the damning confession on the tip of his tongue, the bloodless, mind-numbing control it takes to keep his hands down at his sides and not reach out and stroke Orphe’s face, tangle his fingers into that soft hair, clutch him close . . . all if it is over, because Orphe finally understands that Ed is not here out of friendship, or sentimentality for their childhood, or even loyalty. But for love.

“Ed,” Orphe says again.

He wants that pretty mouth. Wants to press the full bloom of those lips against his own; wants to lave at Orphe, wants to fuck into Orphe with his tongue, wants to make Orphe moan and press up with need. Wants to tear the pristine clothing off that exquisite body and mark the delicate little princeling with his teeth—he wants Orphe’s purity; he wants to nurture it. Orphe is everything a Strahl candidate should be; Ed has always been a mistake. Ed is at the Rosenstolz Academy only because it affords him proximity to Orphe. Ed stands by his side, always, always, out of loyalty. Out of love.

“Orphe,” he murmurs, inching his face closer until he can feel the warm puff of Orphe’s breath roll across his neck. “Your hands are cold,” he says, covering the slender fingers with his own.

Orphe’s eyes fill with unshed tears. He chokes out, “My sister . . .”

Before he can stop himself, he licks Orphe’s cheek, lapping up a single tear. It tastes . . . like salt and despair and Orphe.

“Wha—” the blond man startles, jerking back.

Ed won’t let go of his hands. And he knows instinctively, if he presses, Orphe just might let him—just might let him lower them to the sheets, settle between his legs, and meld together for one perfect, perfect night. But in the morning, those gorgeous eyes would be flat and dull and Orphe would feel used and betrayed.

“I cannot bear to see you cry. Get some rest, Orphe,” Ed whispers. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

“Can you . . .?” Orphe pauses, looking down at the floor. “Will you hold me a while?”

Shock, and then a warm, bright, comforting tingle. He’d never thought he’d see the day when Orphe asked for tenderness. This was Orphe, after all. He climbs into bed and in a matter of heartbeats, a trembling Orphe’s in his arms. And the tears fall, like hot rain on his shirt, bleeding through to his chest. He fists Orphe’s hair and holds him tight, quietly letting his own tears fall.

“Why? Why are you . . ?”

He frowns. “Loyalty.”

“Oh.” Orphe goes still.

Ed presses his mouth to Orphe’s forehead. He tilts the blond’s face up and places gentle kisses on his eyelids—his cheeks—the corner of that pretty, pretty mouth. Looking deeply into Orphe’s eyes he says it again, “Loyalty . . . to only you.”

Orphe’s eyes go wide. “O-oh.”

The kiss . . . is perfection. "Go to sleep," he commands, his low voice ushering Orphe into dreams.

 

* Schaefer = German for Shepherd


End file.
